


breathe in

by CigarilloSmoke (MakeAStriderSmile)



Category: overwatch
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Day Two, I already did an art piece for day one, I can't think of any more tags to add, M/M, McReyes Week, Mentions of injuries (gunshot wounds), Shotgunning, So I am trying to write bad drabbles for most of the rest of the week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 01:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8645107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeAStriderSmile/pseuds/CigarilloSmoke
Summary: Jesse McCree claims to have never smoked a cigarette in his life.Gabriel Reyes is not entirely buying this, but will indulge him for now.---This is a fic for day two of McCree & Reyes Week, the prompt being smoke!





	

“Ya know, that’s g’nna kill ya one day, right, boss?”

 

Gabe raises an unimpressed eyebrow, and, just to spite the young cowboy currently staring him down, takes a deep drag of his cigarillo, and puffs out a few soft rings of smoke into the air, though he is kind enough, if kind was the word for it, to blow the smoke away from McCree. Wouldn’t want to offend his delicate sensibilities.

 

“You do know the line of work we’re in, right,  _ vaquero _ ? A few of these a week won’t kill me any sooner than a stray bullet or some punk ass cowboy flubbing a shot in the middle of an op.” He offers a narrow eyed look at Jesse, making it very clear he was chastising him for his mishap today. 

 

Jesse had been going wild, having a ball, as he usually did during ops, for a reason that escaped Gabriel, honestly. He went to fan the hammer. Didn’t realize there was an entire other person in his line of sight that didn’t belong to the group they were assigned to take down.

This ended in a bullet in Gabe’s leg, a black eye for Jesse, and another fervent prayer to whatever deity was listening to give Jesse McCree some common fucking sense, please.

 

Of course, whatever supersoldier shit that got pumped into him all those years ago dulled the pain of his gunshot fairly quick, and whatever it hadn’t dulled, the cigarillo went a long way to making him feel right as rain, as long as he didn’t make any kinds of sudden movements.

 

Jesse looked suitably upset by this accusation, and Gabe was contented by the knowledge that his agent actually felt bad for hurting him in his excitement. “‘m real sorry ‘bout that, boss, y’ know I am. I guess a couple can’t do all that much harm to a big ol’ super soldier like yerself.” He muses, though the last statement is more to himself than to the other man, shuffling his booted feet against the ratty carpet in the common room of the Blackwatch base they were currently operating out of.

 

“Damn right, they can’t. My metabolism is fuckin’ through the roof.” Gabriel asserts smugly. He’s fairly sure metabolism doesn’t actually do much for harmful chemicals, but he couldn’t be sure, and he isn’t gonna bother asking anyone about it. “So, why’d you come in here, besides comin’ to tell me off like Angie does whenever she catches me with a cigarillo in hand?”

 

“Oh, I just… wanted to see how you were doin’, wanted some food, this seemed like a good chance to combine the two.” He gives Gabe a toothy grin, tucking his thumbs into his gaudy belt buckle of choice for the day, a thick, silvery depiction of a cowboy hat, and crossing through to the little kitchenette they had in their common room. He rummaged through the pantry carelessly, rustling and rattling and clanging like a madman until he let out a triumphant cry, tugging out a large container painted gold, with a messy declaration of ‘McCree’ painted in black on the side. He returns to the couch that Gabe is planted on, his wounded leg elevated on a footstool and a fuckton of pillows, flopping down beside him and opening his container, revealing a wealth of candies and other little treats, ones that made Gabe’s eyes go wide in surprise.

 

“Where and when the fuck did you get obleas?” Gabe blurts, pointing down at the little sleeve of wafer candy, still entirely intact.

 

“I have my sources, boss. Can’t reveal my secrets just yet. Want one?” Jesse asks, popping a piece of tejocote candy into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, the spice barely even registering on his tongue.

 

“Do I want one. Jesse McCree, who the fuck do you think I am? An idiot who would ever fuckin’ refuse obleas?” He holds out a hand imperiously, and he is graciously provided with the whole packet. He looks over in surprise at the easy concession, and finds Jesse smiling ruefully.

 

“To apologize for shootin’ ya. An’ for bein’ rude ‘bout your smokin’.” He explains quietly, shrugging fluidly and popping another candy into his mouth. “You can have free pickings of my stash, just so long as you don’t eat all of it. An’ don’t eat my last Jabalina, I’ll shoot ya in the other leg if ya so much as look at it.” He warns with a dangerous look in his eye. 

 

Gabriel darts a look at the stick of candy and shrugs, tapping the ash from his cigarillo, all but abandoned, into the ashtray. “Not all that attached to them, I was more into the liquid stuff. Though nothin’ can beat Pica Fresca. If we’re getting into the best candies you could eat as a kid. My mama used to buy ‘em for us if we’d done all our chores that week. I think I was around 14 when I started just buyin’ them myself.”

 

Jesse looks awed by this display of honesty, ducking his head and nodding. “My ma used to give me ten bucks when we had the money to spare. I’d go out and buy a whole bunch of tamarindo candies to share with my little sister. Sometimes I’d just save up for a bit and buy a bunch of snacks and hoard ‘em.” He inclines his head toward the golden container, grinning, though there’s an edge of something that looked a lot like pain in it. “Guess the tradition carried on there, huh.”

 

“....I guess so.” Gabriel murmurs simply in response, glancing at the younger man, tilting his head a little, taking a short drag of his cigarillo, blowing smoke into the air.

 

“Hey.” The sudden outburst from Jesse makes him look over, finding the cowboy looking at him intently, his stubbly face serious. “Can I… try that?” He nods at the cigarillo, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his bag of candies.

 

“Thought you thought it was a filthy habit, McCree.” Gabe can’t help but tease, smirking and tapping the ash out again.

 

“Oh, I do. I just.. I always see cowboys in old westerns with big cigars ‘n fancy lighters, ‘n you seem to like ‘em so they can’t be all that bad, so I was wonderin’ if I could give em a try. Just this once, promise I won’t start pinchin’ them on ya.” He looks so earnest and serious, still fidgeting away, genuinely curious. Gabe can’t help but feel a pang of something that feels like affection and something else, right in the center of his chest as a warm smile settles on his face and he holds out the half-finished cigarillo.

 

“Go nuts,  _ vaquero _ . Just take it easy, don’t choke yourself out on the smoke, take some smoke in, hold it a second or two, breathe it out. Ain’t nothin’ to it once you get in the rhythm.” He watches as Jesse’s slender, knobbly fingers pluck the cigarillo from his own fingers, and watches the way the other’s chapped lips circle the small cigar as he takes in a short huff of smoke and… devolves into a hacking and coughing fit almost instantly.

 

Gabe sighs, slaps Jesse’s back a few times and takes the cigarillo from his hands before he accidentally drops it or something equally disastrous, taking a longer puff of the smoke and breathing the thick plumes out into the air above him.

 

It takes a few minutes for the younger man to settle, and when he finally does, his voice rasps a little, lingers over his words, turns his sleepy Southern drawl from syrupy sweet to husky and low. “Lemme try that again proper, boss. I think I just need t’ get the hang ‘f it ‘fore I try too hard to get it right.”

 

Gabriel Reyes absolutely does not flush. He does not flush and his voice does not shift in pitch or intonation in the slightest as he replies, “Okay, one more and then I’m takin’ it back if you fuck it up.” He hands the cigarillo over once more, waits for Jesse to take it before dropping his hands into his lap and staring silently down at his own fingers, thick and ungainly, yet still pretty fucking deadly in their own right.

 

He waits a minute or so, and when he doesn’t hear thick coughing and rasping, he looks over, only to find Jesse tipping his head back and exhaling a long plume of smoke, as if he’s been doing this all his life, soft grey curling round his lips and standing out against the deep pink of flesh that is being constantly bitten during particularly exciting battles.

 

_ Well, fuck _ , Gabriel thinks, cleverly.  _ Time to hide in my room forever, I’ve got a fucking smoking kink now. Or maybe it’s a cowboy kink. Maybe a smoking cowboy kink. Either way, time to fucking perish, this is the end for me, he absolutely cannot ever know about this. _

 

“Ey, boss. Maybe you were right ‘bout these. They ain’t half bad, once ya get used to ‘em.” Jesse announces happily, his voice still rasping in all the right places.

 

“Yeah, well, there’s a bunch of neat little tricks you can do with ‘em, so it keeps it interesting.” Gabriel absolutely does not mean to say these next few words, but he’s still riding on the high of discovering he has a ridiculous thing for Jesse McCree and the way he looks when he’s smoking and is not in control of his actions. “Like shotgunning, for instance.”

 

Immediately, Jesse’s attention is on him, eyes wide with awe. Of course he’s in awe, fucking weirdo obsessed with shotguns and revolvers. There’s something else in his eyes that Gabe can’t quite identify, even as he drawls thoughtfully, “I’d reckon I’ve never heard about this ‘shotgunnin’ thing, boss. Mind explaining?”

 

“Well, it’s just passing smoke from someone’s mouth into the other’s, really.” Gabe says with a shrug, holding out his ashtray with a raised brow and letting Jesse tap out the ash gathering at the still glowing tip of the cigarillo. “Tends to be popular when there aren’t many cigarettes to go round.” Also pretty popular with couples. And potheads. But he isn’t going to say that right now.

 

“What, so ya take in smoke, and blow it out in someone’s face? Sounds kinda rude, boss.” McCree’s frowning, though there’s some odd mirth dancing in those pale brown eyes.

 

“No, no, no, it’s not like that. The other person takes in the smoke. It’s a little difficult to get the hang of to start with, but it’s kinda fun.” 

 

“Is it just? Wanna give a lil’ demonstration?” 

 

Gabe nearly chokes on air at the thought, blinks furiously for a couple seconds, looks over to find Jesse looking perfectly innocent, as if he honestly has no idea what shotgunning is. Which he is now beginning to doubt.

 

“You should ask someone else to demonstrate. Maybe Shimada. He’d probably be happy to give you a little demonstration.” Gabe manages to choke out, averting his gaze and taking a guilty little pleasure in the soft peals of laughter that leave Jesse at that.

 

“Genji-kun don’t smoke, boss. An’ he’s not real up to takin’ off his faceplate. Not ta mention, Angie’d kill me if I let the cyborg ninja smoke up his internals or whatnot.” Jesse murmurs teasingly. “C’mon, Gabe, just a little demonstration. Ain’t askin’ for a lifelong smokin’ commitment.”

 

“Ha. Hilarious.” He deadpans in return, simply sighing lightly before snatching the cigarillo, muttering, “Head a bit closer, ingrate, if you want a demonstration, you’ll get one.”

 

Jesse’s face is suddenly a few inches from his, warm eyes practically sparkling with excitement. “I knew you’d give in, boss. What do you need me to do?”

 

“Just stay put, dumbass.” He grumbles, tilting his head to the side to take a deep drag of the dregs of the cigarillo, putting it out and turning his head back to Jesse, smirking and exhaling a long plume of smoke into Jesse’s face, trusting, by now, that Jesse knew exactly what to do.

 

And, of course, he did, taking Gabriel’s plume of smoke into his own mouth, tipping his head back and exhaling the traded smoke with a soft hum. He then lowered his head again, making eye contact with a very unimpressed commanding officer.

 

“Alright, so ya caught me. Not entirely clueless about smoking. I lived with a gang for most o’ my life, I pick shit up quick.” He murmurs softly, a lingering rasp curling round his words and making Gabriel shiver.

 

“Yeah. Kinda figured.” Is all he can utter, eyes flicking down to Jesse’s lips, only for a moment, before sitting back, plucking a candy from the bag the younger man still held, popping one into his mouth and making a noise of contentment.

 

“Mm. Reminds me of home.” He mumbles, in an attempt to break whatever weird tension had built between them, not meeting the other’s eyes, simply laying back and rubbing absently at his thigh, sending a twinge through his wounded calf.

 

“That’s the goal, usually. Only reason I keep buyin’ em. Reminds me of all the shit before Deadlock, before this. Ain’t many good memories, but the ones I had were always about candy. So I kept buyin’ ‘em.” Jesse replies, smiling slightly, taking a couple more of his candies and popping them into his mouth before he sealed the container full of treats back up, tucking the half full bag of sweets into his pocket as he stands, returning it to wherever he had hidden it in the pantry.

 

“Do you have a stash like this in every safehouse, McCree?” Gabe asks curiously. Surely, Jesse didn’t go without his sweets for weeks on end, or months even, or as long as it took for them return to this particular base.

 

“Of course I do, boss. What do ya take me for? Someone who’s gonna lug that thing round to every base? I have stashes everywhere. Everywhere except the fancy Overwatch base over in Switzerland, and that one place in Nepal that we set up in for a couple weeks.” Jesse insists with a bright grin, looking proud of his ability to stash traditional Mexican candy in any place he could find.

 

“Huh. Good work. If I come across any of your stashes though, I am gonna raid ‘em.” Gabe replies, smirking and lighting another cigarillo, his last one for the evening. He had a system, he rationed out his cigarillos so Ziegler wouldn’t lecture him about his lungs, and didn’t argue when she complained about his drinking (“ _ Super soldier metabolism or not, you’re still doing a world of damage to your liver, Commander Reyes! You must at least try to stop with all this drinking! _ ”, as if she had any idea how hard it was to come home from a mission and feel dull, empty and bitter, needing to be numb more than anything else.) so she would stay off everyone else’s case about their drinking habits.

 

“You’re replacin’ whatever ya take, boss.” The cowboy tries not to make it obvious that he’s inching back toward the door, and Gabe snorts out a little laugh.

 

“You’re dismissed, ingrate. Go eat your candy and steal someone else’s smoke.” There’s something undeniably affectionate in the older man’s seemingly harsh words, softening the sharp edges.

 

“Wouldn’t be anyone else’s smoke I wanna steal, Gabe. Woulda figured you’d’ve noticed that by now.” Jesse delivers a lazy salute, a warm grin, and warmer eyes, as he backtracks out of the room and leaves Gabe with that particular tidbit of information that he had no idea what to do with.

 

It was another minute or so of quiet smoking before he spoke, wispy curls of smoke spilling from lips that bore more than one thick scar. “Yeah. Guess I should’ve. Guess I should’ve noticed I felt the same.”

 

He tipped his head back against the couch, and sighed. “You’ve really gotten yourself into the shit this time, Reyes.” He mutters to himself. “A fucking cowboy. Couldn’t have just stuck to the boy scout, you had to pick a god damn cowboy.”

 

“....Well, at least he’s hot.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thank you for reading! I know this is short, but I only found out about the event on the night before it started, and so this is what I have so far. 
> 
> For the first day, I actually did art, which, if you'd like to see that, it's at here!  
> (Gods, let's hope that hyperlink works, ey bois?)
> 
> Hopefully someone likes the nonsense I've written! Thanks so much, and I hope you have a lovely day!! <3


End file.
